


Piercing Eyes and Sensitive Souls

by ellebeedarling



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Love, Rare Pair, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-15
Updated: 2017-01-15
Packaged: 2018-09-17 15:51:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9332297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellebeedarling/pseuds/ellebeedarling
Summary: It started with a smile, and the million more that followed only drove her deeper into this madness.Spans all three games.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This pairing doesn't have enough love. I like fics where Shepard goes after an older person. I've seen quite a few of Shepard with Hackett or Zaeed, for example, but it's rare to see one about the good doctor and the dashing commander. Hopefully I did them justice.

It started with a smile.

 

A single, beautiful, disarming smile that reached all the way up to those intense, piercing, blue eyes. Eyes the color of the skies over Vancouver on a cloudless day, but beset with diamonds. When she'd told him of her silly romanticized idea of military life, he'd smiled at her in a way that crinkled the corners of those brilliant eyes, and she could easily admit that her heart skipped a beat.

 

_Tending soldiers with piercing eyes and sensitive souls..._

 

Indeed.

 

It had all started with that smile. The million more that followed only drove her deeper into this madness. He was twenty years her junior. He was her commanding officer. He was the first human Spectre and the object of desire of every female crewman on this ship and beyond. And yet, the way he always seemed to find some reason to loiter in the med-bay. The way his eyes sparkled when he watched her. That smile that seemed only reserved for her. Karin was soon lost in the all consuming fire that was John Shepard.

 

She sips the cup of coffee he brought her, remembering the thrill that shot through her as their fingers brushed when he passed it to her. He's watching her over the rim of his cup, the skin around those damned eyes wrinkling with his smile. Her eyes are held spellbound by his, and nothing she can say to herself can make her tear them away. The smile begins to fade, though, and those eyes take on a seriousness that is too heavy for a man as young as he is.

 

“This is it,” he says, and though his voice is soft and quiet, it fills her with a dread she hasn't anticipated. They've stolen a prototype warship. He's thrown his life away nearly every day for the last four months in an attempt to prevent the horrors that are coming. She's glued him back together more times than she can count, and he just keeps going. Injuries, bullet holes, broken limbs, these are all just a minor inconvenience to a man like Shepard. He presses on.

 

Now there's a sense of foreboding that hasn't accompanied any of his other missions. This trip to Ilos will lead to the final confrontation in this battle. For now at least. They all know there's more to come. He hides it well, but the amount of time they've spent together over these months has allowed her to read him in a way that she suspects few can.

 

He's afraid.

 

And well he should be.

 

They're like children playing with things they don't understand. A race of machines bent on annihilation is so far beyond comprehension as to be unfathomable, and the one man who can – who _will_ – stand up to them is barely more than a child himself.

 

A look of regret mars his features, and he opens his mouth to say something but seems to think better of it. He smiles again, but this time it doesn't reach his eyes – doesn't crinkle the edges in that way she's come to find utterly irresistible. “We should probably get some sleep,” he says, slow and sad and almost surprised, as if those were not the words he wanted or expected to come out of his mouth in that moment.

 

He turns to go, but stops. In a burst of brashness, he whirls around and closes the distance between them, not stopping until they are close enough for her to feel his coffee scented breath against her lips. He closes his eyes, jaw clenching, a muscle at his temple moving in and out as he wrestles with what he's about to do. Their friendship has come to mean everything – to both of them. If he does this, there's no going back. Gentle, tentative, almost frightened, his lips brush against hers. Barely there before they're gone again.

 

When he turns to leave again, she grabs his hand. She's lived longer than he has, and she knows that life is too short to leave things unsaid – undone. This is it. He'd already said it once. He might not come back this time, and everyone in the whole damned galaxy knows it. She's kept things close to the vest her whole life. Played it safe. Missed out on chance after chance at love.

 

Not this time.

 

There's a question in his eyes, and she answers it, bringing her hand to his cheek and drawing him down until their lips are pressed firmly together. There's no hesitation on his part this time. This time it's all heat and hunger. His arms go around her waist, drawing her flush against his body. One hand comes up to tangle in her once-blonde hair bringing her deeper as his lips caress her own. He tastes of coffee and warmth and desire, and her knees buckle as he explores her mouth. She wonders briefly what's going through his mind at this moment, but he breaks the kiss – pink lips parted and shiny, panting for breath – and the look in his eyes answers all her questions.

 

His next words clear away all her doubts, “I don't want to be alone tonight.”

 

“Neither do I,” she confesses, and he brings their lips together again.

 

“Meet me in my cabin?”

 

She nods and watches him leave. He gives her a parting glance that has her stomach fluttering like a teenager. In a fit of nerves, she knocks over the unfinished coffee that he brought her and curses while she cleans it up. For appearances sake, she grabs a few datapads to carry with her and makes her way to the Commander's quarters.

 

Shepard is leaning against his desk with a datapad in hand. Ever the Commander. Ever working. He smiles again when she enters the room, and he brings up his omni-tool to lock the door behind her before setting his datapad down and crossing the room. He takes her datapads and sets them on a table in the center of the room, a knowing and appreciative smile on his lips.

 

She's been in here before, but it was always to work, never a social visit. The bed on the far wall has never seemed so large and inviting and terrifying as it does in this moment. He follows her gaze and steps back. “We don't have to,” he says, and she knows he means it. She loves him all the more for it.

 

Love?

 

Yes, she does love him. How could she not? She'd never had a thing for younger men, and she still doesn't. A thing for John Shepard is something else entirely. She definitely has a thing for him. “I want to,” she says, and she means it. Stepping back into his personal space, she runs her hands up his arms to his shoulders and brings them to rest on the broad muscles of his chest. His hands come up to grip her waist, and for a few moments they are frozen in this moment in time.

 

“Are you sure? I don't want to-”

 

Using her lips, she cuts him off, and the passion they'd shared in the med-bay moments ago returns in full force. He lifts her and carries her to the bed, laying her down gently and spreading himself out on top of her. His lips move to her neck, and electric currents course through her body, igniting a fire that she hasn't felt in far too long.

 

She's touched him dozens of times over the months that they've been on this ship together. Always before it was in that clinical way that a doctor touches her patient. Tonight, she explores him with her hands as his lover, not his doctor. The muscles of his back are large, defined, cords clearly felt under his skin. Patches of his skin are smooth, but marred by myriad scars. Sliding her fingers under the hem of his shirt, she maps these now, committing every one of them to memory just in case... Her fingers twitch, and he pulls back to look into her eyes. His smile is soft and warm.

 

_Piercing eyes and sensitive souls..._

 

Their lips meet tenderly, and he looks at her again. “I'm sure,” she says at last, sensing the reason for his hesitation. He nods and slides a hand up to grip the zipper pull on her medical uniform. The pace is agonizingly slow as he tugs it down until her blouse falls open. He grins as he traces a calloused finger over the delicate lace trimming her bra. Lowering his head, he presses his lips to the tender flesh peeking out of the top of the garment. He sighs in contentment, then brings a rough hand up to cup her breast through the fabric. Expert fingers hone in on her nipple, and tweak it to hardness. His lips then move down to capture it, the moisture of his mouth seeping through her bra to her skin.

 

A growl emanates from his chest, and he moves down her body, pressing kisses against her soft flesh. She's not as taut and toned as she had been when she was his age, but if anything, he seems to enjoy the extra little bit of padding she's acquired with age. She can feel him smiling against her belly. Then there are fingers on the button of her trousers and he's looking at her again with that question in his eyes. She nods, and he unclasps them, breath hitching in his throat. She lifts her hips when he hooks his hands into her waistband to help him slide them down. She's never felt as exposed as she does right this minute. Maybe the time she'd lost her virginity, but other than that, no. She was always comfortable with sex. Until the first human Spectre was scrutinizing her body with those damned blue eyes of his, that is. But that smile. The smile that started the whole thing months ago, curls his lips, and he kisses her again, just under her navel, and continuing down to the tuft of hair that is her last defense against him, hiding her from his view.

 

He stops long enough to work her shoes and pants the rest of the way off, then gently pushes her knees until she's spread open and completely exposed to him. He makes a rumbling noise, then smiles at her again before leaning down to plant kisses along her inner thighs. If she'd known how this night would go, she would have trimmed things up a bit down there, but again, Shepard doesn't seem to mind. His rough hands are gripping her thighs, and his lips are moving ever closer to where she wants them to be, and it's almost a shame that he's still fully dressed.

 

One hand moves to spread her lips apart, and he growls again to see her already wet and glistening. In typical Commander Shepard fashion, he dives straight in, tongue darting out for one quick taste before pressing into her. Just like everything else he touches, he is an expert at this. She doesn't think about just exactly how he's gained this particular skill set, just lets herself reap the benefits of his prior experiences. Hopefully she will be able to impress him just as much with her own skills very soon.

 

Damn that brilliant tongue of his! It flicks against her clit until she's writhing, legs trembling as desire builds inside her. She will never admit to him just exactly how long it's been since a man has done this for her. Suffice to say it's been way too damn long. His lips move against her, sucking the bud of nerves between them, and he doesn't even have to add his fingers to bring her to her first orgasm. She cries out, body bowing, toes curling and fingers twisting into the scratchy military issue blanket that covers his bed. None of her offering goes to waste. He laps greedily at her, moaning softly. The sound has her wanting more already.

 

Slowly, she descends from her high, relaxing into the bed, and it's only then that he stops and works his way back up her body with another trail of gentle kisses. This man is a case study in opposing forces. In battle strong and deadly. In the bedroom tender and gentle, though no less fierce. His meticulous attention to detail that makes him such a capable commander, also makes him a phenomenal lover.

 

“So beautiful,” he murmurs into her ear once he's kissed his way back up her body. “You're so beautiful, Karin.”

 

She hasn't seen beautiful in the mirror in at least a decade, but the way he says it – breathless and reverent – makes her believe it. She believes that's what he sees at least, and in a way that's more important to her than believing that she's beautiful herself. How many women in this galaxy would give everything they had to hear him say those very words to them? How had it happened that he'd chosen her?

 

His fingers trail down her body, giving her time to recover before they go any further, and he nuzzles his stubbled jaw against her neck. She can feel him breathing in the scent of her, and it sends tingles through her. She's been trained as a marine, same as him, but she knows – even in her prime – she couldn't hope to match him in either strength or skill, but when she pushes against his shoulders, he allows himself to be rolled over onto his back. She sits up and finishes removing her blouse, hesitating to remove her bra too – gravity is often unkind to a woman's more fleshy bits after all.

 

His face is kind and warm as he whispers for her to take it off, and she can't resist him. Swallowing her nerves, she does as he asks and is rewarded by a dark look and a smile of appreciation. He sits up, gripping both breasts with his hands and brings one to his mouth, sucking on her nipple until she's aching with need again, then shifting his attention to the other. She climbs into his lap, and tugs on his shirt until – laughing – he takes it off. It's the same chest and belly that she's seen in the med-bay time and again. There's the newest scar from the bullet he took on Virmire. She runs a fingertip around the angry red welt that will eventually fade to a silvery pink given enough time, and he watches her as she studies him. He's still smiling at her – waiting patiently for her to make the next move as if he would be perfectly satisfied with stopping right here.

 

Well she's not ready to stop.

 

Bringing their lips back together, she bites his lower lip, and his hands fly up to squeeze her hips tightly. So he doesn't just like sweet and gentle? That's good to know! Her tongue dips into his mouth, tasting herself there, and she doesn't relent until he's bucking his hips into hers. “Fuck,” he mutters when she finally releases his mouth, and she grins, moving with purpose toward her prize – his hardened length that she can feel straining against his uniform pants. She takes the time to strip him bare, removing his boots and pants before kissing her way up his strong legs. Her teeth clamp briefly onto the tender flesh inside his thigh, and he curses again as his hips jerk in response.

 

Her eyes lock with his before she finally gives in. Holding his gaze, she lets her tongue circle his head, and he sucks in a sharp breath. There's already a drop of liquid seeping out of the slit in the top, and she flicks her tongue across it, tasting the sweetness of it. She pulls his foreskin back and lets her lips enclose the bulbous head, sucking gently. His eyes roll back in his head, finally breaking contact with hers, and he lets out a moan that deepens when she slides him all the way into her mouth. “God, Karin,” he gasps, fingers tangling in her hair, though he doesn't try to force her down. She thinks he just wants the anchor.

 

She works him slow and tortuous. Here's an area where she can show off, and show off she does. Shepard is larger than most of the men she's been with – not that it's a very big number – but she's easily able to take him into her throat. When she does, he has to fight for control, hands fisting into the blankets, nostrils flaring as he takes deep breaths. It isn't long before he's begging for mercy. “Shit, stop... please!” His eyes are wide when he looks down at her again, and she smiles smugly up at him. He huffs a laugh and pulls her up the bed, kissing her again. “That was too close,” he says sheepishly.

 

“Only seems fair,” she replies. “You brought me off embarrassingly quickly.”

 

“Well, I'm not finished with you yet,” he says, and his voice is a low growl that has her toes curling again. “Do you want me to wear a condom?”

 

“No need.” She's already past childbearing age, and she knows that neither of them have any communicable diseases. He makes a needy noise of relief then rolls over on top of her. She feels him grip himself. Feels his head brush against her opening. Then his eyes are locked on hers again, and he pushes forward into her with one slow, smooth motion. Her eyes roll back her head this time, and she feels his lips against her throat again. “John,” she breathes, and he shudders.

 

“No one ever calls me that anymore,” he whispers, and his hips begin to move – long, deep strokes that have her nearly forgetting her own name. “It's nice,” he finally admits, and his voice is all but wrecked from the sensations they're creating.

 

“No one ever calls me Karin, either.”

 

His eyes are boring into her again, and a soft smile plays at his lips, even as he brings them closer to the brink with his slow, steady movements. “You feel amazing... Karin.” He closes his eyes, then whispers, “So damn perfect.”

 

She sucks in a deep breath, and releases it in a long moan, fingers digging into his broad shoulders. He brings their mouths together again, swallowing her sounds – adding his own. Their breathing is ragged. Sweat beads on his forehead. The blue of his eyes is overtaken by black pupil, and she can see his pulse jumping in his neck. “John, I... so close...,” her voice gives out, and the last syllable is almost a croak.

 

“Me too.” He rests his forehead against hers, pace of his thrusts increasing, breathing heavier. He shifts, slipping one arm under her knee to change his angle, and he reaches that spot deep inside her that has her arching into him and crying out.

 

“Yes, there,” she nearly shouts, and Shepard's grin turns feral as he snaps his hips forward so hard it's almost painful. It takes only a few fast, hard strikes to have her coming again, bliss washing over her in waves as she trembles under his body. His name falls from her lips like a whispered prayer, and he breaks at the sound of it. His back arches, head thrown back and mouth hanging open, and she feels him spilling into her, cock twitching with his climax, hips jerking violently against her.

 

“Karin,” he groans, low and deep, and just the sound of her name like that is almost enough to make her come again.

 

Spent, he falls forward, bracing himself on his elbows to keep from crushing her. Their lips meet, and they pepper each other with kisses as their bodies recover. “That was incredible,” she murmurs, and he agrees with her, rolling to the side and slipping his arm under her neck, pulling her until she's resting her head on his chest. He caresses her arm as her fingers toy with the hair just below his belly button.

 

He presses his lips to her forehead. “We should do it again... soon.”

 

**

 

Steeling her nerves, she palms the door to the hotel room. He's sitting on the foot of the bed reading a datapad. A smile spreads her face. Always working. His blue eyes are on her immediately, and he tosses the datapad aside and crosses the room to pull her into his arms. It's been nearly two weeks since she's felt his lips on hers. Two weeks since she'd been pressed against the hard warmth of his body. Two weeks since their night together before Ilos.

 

Since that final battle, when she hasn't been tending to his injuries, she's been dealing with other injured crewmen and helping out in a hospital on the Presidium. He's brought her lunch a few times when he could spare the time, but the Council has kept him busy in meetings since the battle. Otherwise, they haven't been able to carve out any time for each other.

 

They are shipping out again in the morning, and she doesn't know where they stand. How will things go this time around? She wants to talk to him. The hotel room had been his idea. The kiss is better than she remembered, though he tastes of toothpaste instead of coffee this time.

 

“You wanted to talk?” He asks, pulling away from her and leading her by the hand to the foot of the bed – the only place to sit. And so she talks. She tells him of her concerns. She doesn't want anything they do to affect the rest of the crew. Wants to keep things professional aboard the ship. He listens to her stoically. Only his eyes betray the slightest hint of disappointment. “If that's what you want, Karin,” he says quietly.

 

“What do you want, John?”

 

He answers by pressing his lips to hers. It almost surprises her how quickly they go from sitting on the end of the bed talking to naked and tangled together under the sheets. He makes love to her as gently and beautifully as he had their first night. They order room service and talk and laugh as they eat their dinner, naked and lounging on the bed. The night passes with them talking, laughing, fucking, and loving until there is no time for sleep, only a steamy shared shower. Afterward, they don their uniforms in silence.

 

He kisses her with that same look of longing and regret she'd seen in his eyes before Ilos. It makes her guts twist. This is not what he wants. To hide this thing that they are doing. He wants to share it. Wants her to share his bed and his life, and Alliance regs be damned. She at least has sense enough to stand her ground. Once she walks out that door everything will go back to the way it was before Ilos. He will be her Commander. She will be his doctor. Maybe, occasionally, things will be different on shore leave, but that would be all they ever had. With a resigned nod, he kisses her again and lets her go.

 

**

 

She should have taken the chance when she had it. Love was in her hands, and she'd foolishly pushed it away.

 

And now he is gone.

 

Karin sits in her quarters with her bottle of brandy and her memories of a beautiful, fierce, passionate man whom she had loved.

 

Her soldier with piercing eyes and a sensitive soul...

 

Now memories are all she has left.

 

**

 

Karin sits in her quarters with a bottle of brandy and stares at the message on her datapad. She's read it a hundred times at least. It's impossible to believe, but if there is even a remote chance that they are being genuine she will take it.

 

A week later she stands outside an observation window staring at the battered but healing body of the man she loves. Cerberus could make the impossible possible it seemed. She is mesmerized by the rise and fall of his chest, then she panics as the machinery starts going haywire. The man on the bed thrashes while the doctors inside the room try desperately to sedate him again. Shepard raises his left hand and his eyes blink a few times. His breathing becomes erratic, and Karin's heart is stuck in her throat. She can't watch him die a second time. Slowly the medication takes effect, and he drifts off again.

 

Turning to the woman standing beside her, Karin signs the contract and passes it back to her. When Shepard wakes again, she will be waiting for him, and things will be different this time.

 

She'll make sure of it.

 

**

 

The ship is amazing. John will be impressed. The med-bay is state of the art and brighter than on the original Normandy. Her fingers fidget nervously. Joker makes a crack about being terrorists, and she tries to laugh but knows it sounds as empty as it feels.

 

“Shepard will be here soon,” the pilot says. “Then things will go back to normal.”

 

Normal.

 

Joker has no idea what her version of normal with Shepard was. They had managed to keep their brief affair a secret, which just meant that she had no one to share it with after he was gone. If he still wanted her... he had to still want her... she wouldn't hide from it again. It feels like hours pass between Joker leaving and Shepard arriving. He freezes in his tracks as his mind tries to process this new information.

 

“Karin,” he breathes at last.

  
  
“John,” she returns, inching her way closer to him. She stops within arms reach, not knowing how he'll react to her after all this time. Her dull green eyes peer up into his immensely more vibrant blue ones, questioning him. He answers with the smile that had started it all, and she sobs, arms vining around his neck. “I missed you.”

 

“I'm sorry,” he says pulling her close and burying his face in her neck. “I'm so sorry.”

 

Her tears soak his shirt, and he holds her letting them flow. How long they stay locked in that embrace, she doesn't know, but she's the one to break it, pulling back and cupping his cheek. Her fingers trace lightly over these strange, new, glowing scars. He grimaces, and she pulls her hand back. “They don't hurt,” he says. “They're just... ugly.”

 

“Not ugly,” she insists. Nothing about this man is ugly. “We'll figure out a way to fix them if they bother you.”

 

He nods then suggests they go get a cup of coffee. Shared cups of coffee is how they'd built this strange relationship in the first place. It started with him bringing her a cup and requesting some space in the med-bay to work as even in his quarters he couldn't find respite from crewmen and their demands. It became a weekly occurrence then increased in frequency until he was coming by daily to share a cup of coffee and some quiet conversation before settling in the far corner of the room to work on his reports. She would catch him watching her sometimes, in lieu of working, and their eyes would lock briefly, silent conversation passing between them before one or the other would look away and start the dance all over again.

 

Months of talking and seemingly innocent flirting over a cup of coffee had culminated with their night before Ilos and their one night in a hotel room on the Citadel after the battle with Sovereign. It was all they'd had before, but now they were getting a second chance. Karin didn't mean to squander it.

 

They end up in his cabin, sitting on the large L-shaped couch, closer than necessary. His leg brushes against hers, and she smiles like a school girl though she can't be bothered with being embarrassed when he laughs. She's missed his laugh too much. She wants to hear it again and again. They talk for hours while the ship flies to Omega, and Karin updates him on what's happened since he... was injured. He grips her hand. “I'm here.”

 

Her eyes lock with his again, and she nods, feeling relieved. But her heart is in her throat as she looks at him. She wants to feel him. Needs to feel him. To be connected to him. He seems to sense what she wants and leans forward to cup his hand around her neck and pull her to his lips. He tastes of coffee again – warm and familiar – and desire stirs in her belly. “John,” she breathes, lips never leaving his.

 

“Tell me what you need.”

 

“You... just... you.” She climbs into his lap, kissing him long and deep and fierce, not wanting to wake if this is a dream. His hands cup her ass, kneading firmly as he moans into her mouth. Her fingers fumble with the clasps of his shirt, but she manages to work them open, sighing with relief when her palms are lying flat against the smooth skin of his chest. Tears roll down her cheeks, but he doesn't say anything about them, just reaches up to brush them away with his thumbs before unzipping her blouse.

 

Once it's undone, he pushes it over her shoulders and reaches around to unclasp her bra. His hands are smooth and foreign. His callouses and scars are all gone, replaced by skin grafts and synthetic protein. She's not worried though. She knows he will be covered in a network of new scars and callouses by the end of the week. She grins against the skin of his neck as those now smooth hands slide around her body to cup her breasts, thumbs flicking her nipples stiff. He pushes her back with a firm hand in the center of her chest so that he can replace his thumbs with his tongue and lips.

 

She undoes his pants while he's distracted, and with impressive strength, he lifts his hips with her on them and shoves his pants and boxer briefs down past his knees. He's hard and ready for her, but she's still mostly clothed. Reluctantly, he releases her so she can stand and undress. “Bed?” He asks, and she just smiles and shakes her head, clambering back into his lap.

 

He holds himself steady while she positions herself and sinks down onto him. Nothing is heard but their heavy breathing as they stare into each others eyes. Slowly, she begins to roll her hips forward, and his fingers twitch on her waist. Her hands cup his neck, kneading lightly as she rides him, and John lets his head fall back against the couch, enjoying the feel of her. When she increases her pace, breathing erratic, he brings his thumb to press against her clit, rubbing in slow circles until she's clamping down on his cock and crying his name. She falls forward, drained from her release and the emotions of the day, and Shepard grips her hips, lifting her up and slamming her back down on to him until he's finishing inside her.

 

She loves this, and she's missed it. The look of pure bliss and relaxation on his face. The way his cheeks are flushed from exertion, and the fine sheen of clean sweat on his skin. The heavy, hooded eyes that crinkle at the corners when he smiles up at her. “I love you,” he whispers, and her tears fall again, lips feathering all over his face and neck.

 

“I love you, too,” she chokes out through her tears. His hands are soothing up and down her back, combing through her hair that's even more gray now after two years of grieving his loss. He finishes kicking out of his shoes and pants, then stands, carrying her to the bed, and they crawl under the covers – much softer than his old bed. He pulls her back against him, spooning their bodies together, and she lets herself be lost in his strong, sure embrace.

 

No one dares to question her when her belongings disappear from the crew quarters or about where she's sleeping now. She and Shepard keep things professional in front of the crew, but alone in their cabin, they're free to love each other the way they want.

 

**

 

Shepard shows up in the med-bay in a suit. He's just gone to help Kasumi with a personal mission. Karin looks him up and down, impressed by what she sees. “We're docking with the Citadel in half an hour, and I'm taking you on a date,” he announces.

 

She takes a moment to look surprised. “I don't have anything to wear,” she informs him.

 

He passes her his credit chit. “Go shopping. I'll pick you up here in two hours.” He winks at her and strolls away, and Karin calls Kasumi for help.

 

Two hours later, he's back, still wearing that suit and looking like a million bucks and holding a single red rose. His mouth drops open for a moment, but he recovers quickly and gives her his new smile. It's not the same as the smile that started their affair more than two years ago. This smile is the one that tells her exactly what he plans to do to her tonight when that dress comes off. It's full of promise and heat and love. It's the smile she gets more often than not these days, and she can't complain about that.

 

Her dress is black satin, overlaid with black lace that frames her neck but cut low enough to expose her cleavage – helped by a push-up bra. She wears black heels, but still doesn't come close to matching Shepard's height. He grabs her with his biotics and pulls her gently toward him, laughing as she squeaks in protest. Their lips meet, but he's careful not to smudge her lipstick. Though he does let his hands wander down to squeeze her ass a few times. Satisfied, he holds his elbow out to her, and passes her the rose. Somehow he always makes her feel like a teenager.

 

They're greeted with catcalls and whistles as they make their way to the airlock, but Shepard takes it in stride, so she does, too. If he's ever been embarrassed by their relationship, he's never let on. She's certainly not embarrassed.

 

There's a skycar waiting for them, and he drives her to a restaurant on the Presidium that is modeled after a French bistro. She orders the Coq au Vin, and he orders roast lamb, and they share bites while they talk about nothing and everything. He insists on dessert, so they split a chocolate mousse. By the time the dessert is gone, she's so turned on from watching him lick the sweet fluff off the spoon that she's hoping they'll just head back to the ship.

 

Shepard smiles at her – the eye wrinkling smile that she loves – and produces two tickets to the symphony. Her favorite composer from London is doing only one show on the Citadel before heading back to Earth. There is no telling how much money he's spent on the tickets. Of course he won't tell her. He kisses the back of her hand then stands, leading her back to the skycar and whisking her away to the concert hall.

 

The concert is so moving, and she watches and listens with rapt attention, hand at her throat the entire time. She's so enraptured that she doesn't notice the blue eyes that are trained on her throughout the night, nor the fond smile that graces his lips as he watches her. When the show is over, there are tears in her eyes, and she turns to find him staring at her. She smiles at him then, her eyes crinkling at the corners, and as if that's the signal he's been waiting for, he surges forward to capture her lips.

 

They barely make it back to their cabin before he's peeling the dress off of her.

 

**

 

She's never been more terrified in her life. She'd always felt safe aboard the Normandy. It isn't his fault. How could he have known that the Collectors would come for them when he was gone?

 

One thing she knows for certain...

 

John Shepard will move heaven and Earth to come for her.

 

**

 

When he comes, she slumps against him, and he searches her, blue eyes frantic and terrified. “Are you alright?”

 

“I... I'm not injured,” she manages, and he pulls her into his arms, squeezing so tightly it hurts. But it's never felt better to be in his arms. His lips press against her forehead, warm and soft, and she sobs against his chest, tears staining her cheeks.

 

“I'm sorry,” he whispers. “I'll never let anyone hurt you again.”

 

Her fingers clutch at him, but she knows this moment can't last. The Collectors are coming. The crew is weak and in need of her attention. She feels the cooling relief of medi-gel flooding her veins and wants to curse him as she realizes what he's done, though she knows it would be futile. She sends up a silent prayer that he won't need that medi-gel for himself before the day is done.

 

He kisses her hard – the kind of kiss that soldiers give their lovers before charging off into battle. “I love you,” he says and she repeats it back to him.

 

“Be careful.”

 

He gives her a nod and sends her back to the ship with the rest of the crew and Grunt to protect them.

 

It's hours before she sees him again – bruised and battered, but alive and well. He's still in his armor – sweaty, bloody, dirty. He marches into the med-bay and scoops her into his arms, lips colliding. It's messy and desperate – the kind of kiss a soldier gives his lover when he returns from a battle that he expected to kill him. The med-bay is mercifully empty, and he pauses to lock the door and engage the privacy tint on the glass before unfastening her pants and shoving them down. He spins her around and bends her over the table, and she hears the seals of his armor clicking and hissing as he releases them. The sound alone is enough to have her wet and aching for him.

 

He's not gentle as he slams into her with a grunt. He removes his chest plate so that he can pull her flush against his body, squeezing her tightly with his arms as he pounds into her. She can't think. Her brain and emotions are on overload. “I love you,” he mutters. “I was so scared. Afraid I'd lost you.” His voice chokes, and she feels a wet tear on her ear as it slides down his cheek. His hand glides down her belly, and he presses two fingers against her clit rubbing until she crying his name and bowing her body, toes curling in her shoes. He erupts right after, filling her with his seed.

 

She turns back around, and he holds her, both of them crying tears of relief. “You came for me,” she said at last.

 

“I'll always come for you, Karin. I promise. I'll never leave you alone.”

 

He pulls her pants back up and helps her adjust them before righting his own armor, then leads her to the elevator. In their cabin, they strip and enter the shower, taking their time washing and loving each other, and when they're done, Shepard carries her to bed and holds her close as they drift off to sleep.

 

**

 

Karin sits in the mess hall watching Shepard pace back and forth as he talks to Admiral Hackett. Something about the whole thing feels like the end. The mission is complete. The Collectors are history. He's mopped up every Cerberus mess he can find and several for the Alliance as well. The mission for Hackett was supposed to be a simple drop and grab, but nothing is ever simple for John Shepard. Her heart broke for him as he'd told her what had happened. No one would ever see the tears he'd cried for those who'd been lost. No one but her. She held his tears near and dear to her heart. A sacred trust for her alone.

 

_Sensitive souls... Piercing eyes..._

 

Their eyes lock through the window as Hackett steps out the door, and she knows.

 

This is the end.

 

**

 

Shepard is sitting on the bed in his cell reading a datapad when she walks in. He isn't supposed to have any visitors, but she'd convinced Anderson that he should be examined by his regular doctor once more before she was transferred to the research lab on the Citadel. She hates research. Her passion and expertise are in treating patients, not conducting experiments. But this is the price she has to pay for her role in the whole Cerberus kafuffle.

 

His blue eyes widen when he sees her. That smile that he reserves only for her wrinkling the skin around them.

 

“That will be all, lieutenant,” she informs Shepard's rather large bodyguard. “I'll need some privacy to examine him. I'll let you know when my examination is complete.”

 

Lieutenant Vega salutes and leaves the two of them alone. “I hope you're planning to give me a thorough examination,” Shepard says, crossing the room to where she's setting up her medical equipment.

 

“I _will_ have to give Anderson a report,” she says, breath already rushed from the lips on her neck.

 

“You'll have to leave a few details out of that report, Doctor,” he informs her. “I've missed you.” She laughs and reminds him he's only been here a week. “You haven't missed me?”

 

“More than you'll know,” she answers honestly, turning to press their mouths together. Despite their location and their need to hurry, Shepard refuses to be rushed. He takes his time with her, committing to memory every detail of her body that he will miss over the next weeks or months or years or however long they decide to keep him there. “I'll wait for you,” she says at the door. “I love you, John.”

 

“I love you, too. When they let me out, I'll come for you,” he kisses her again. “I'll always come for you.”

 

She brushes her fingers over his lips and ducks out of the room before her tears have a chance to fall.

 

**

 

Six months. That's how long they keep him, and it could have been more if the reapers hadn't shown up.

 

She overhears chatter from the other researchers that the Normandy has just docked and that one of the crew are injured. Her heart lurches in her chest then sticks in her throat. Blindly, she stumbles toward the elevator.

 

Not Shepard.

 

Please don't let it be Shepard.

 

She's talking with Dr. Michel about Kaidan when she hears his voice.

 

“Karin?”

 

She turns to face him, and he looks exactly the way he did the day she'd left him in Vancouver. His handsome face and fierce blue eyes light up, and he wraps his arms around her lifting her in the air and spinning her around. Everyone is staring at his display, but she couldn't care less. He sets her down and grabs her cheeks drawing her close for a deep, tender kiss that leaves her breathless and trembling. Only Shepard has ever kissed her this way.

 

He checks in on Kaidan, then she leads him to her apartment. The door barely closes before he lifts her and carries her into the bedroom. They both strip out of their uniforms quickly, and he picks her up and crawls up the bed with her wrapped around him. Laughing, he lays her down and kisses her. His hard cock slips into her wetness easily, and they're lost in each other – the touch, the taste, the smell and feel of everything that they've missed for the last six months. He's hers now and hopefully for the rest of their lives. She refuses to let herself think of the war right this minute.

 

He comes with his lips pressed against her throat and her name stuttered out on a ragged sigh, and she comes along with him, wrapping her legs around him and wishing that she could curl up inside his chest and stay there for all eternity. He's still semi-hard inside her when he lifts his head and gazes into her eyes. “Marry me,” he says, quiet, almost a whisper. “Right now. Today.”

 

“Yes,” she says, knowing that they may never get the chance if she hesitates.

 

No one on the crew says anything about the thin silver bands that each of them now wear on their left hands, but they do receive plenty of smiles and hugs and pats on the back. More than one crewman walks away swiping at their eyes.

 

They spend their wedding night making love under the passing stars over their bed in the captain's cabin while traveling to Palaven.

 

**

 

She looks at the ring on her hand, then at the plaque with his name on it.

 

Commander John Shepard

 

She holds it, tracing each letter with a finger before looking at the memorial wall in front of her. He couldn't be gone again, could he? Fate would not be so cruel as to make her relive that again, would it? The grief that she'd felt the first time he'd died had nearly drowned her. It is worse now. Now she knows what it's like to be his wife.

 

Tears stream down her face, and she can't do it. She can't let herself believe that he's gone. Not until she sees his dead body with her own two eyes. He promised he would never leave her alone, and she's going to hold him to that promise. She's rooted to the floor, unable to step forward, unable to turn back, knowing that the crew are anxious to get this over with. They all love him in their own way, but their pain doesn't come close to her own.

 

She takes a step forward.

 

The comm crackles to life, and Hackett's voice fills the space.

 

“Shepard?” She asks, hope and desperation in her voice.

 

“Alive. Barely.”

 

She sobs and her legs give out. Garrus catches her and carries her to the med-bay. She spends the entire flight back to Earth lying on a table in the med-bay and crying her eyes out.

 

_Please let him live until I get there!_

 

**

 

_How is he still alive?_

 

That's her first thought. The charred and broken man on the bed is almost unrecognizable, but he's breathing. She checks the monitors, his chart, his vitals, and is amazed that he's holding on. Day by day she wakes to find that he's getting stronger. He undergoes multiple surgeries to replace the charred skin with more of the synthetic protein, but he remains unconscious. It's better for him. If he were awake, he would be in constant agony.

 

She sleeps in the miserable chair by his bed, holding his hand, and refuses to leave until Hackett, himself, comes in and orders her to go get a meal and a bath and sleep for at least eight hours in a real bed. The Normandy crew take shifts sitting with him so that he won't wake up alone, but she wants to be there. Hers is the first face she wants him to see. She follows Hackett's orders, but doesn't get a wink of sleep until she creeps back into his room and ousts a sleeping Tali from her chair. The quarian grumbles, but lays a reassuring hand on her shoulder before taking her leave.

 

Karin watches his face. It's still bruised, but clearer than it was the first day. She takes his hand in hers, lacing their fingers together and presses her lips against his cheek. “Wake up, John,” she pleads.

 

“Five more minutes?”

 

His voice startles her. It's raw and broken, but it's his. When she looks at his face again, he's smiling – the eye crinkling smile that's just for her – and she has to keep from throwing herself onto him. She does sob and bring his hand to her lips, kissing it over and over. “I love you,” she whispers.

 

“I told you I wouldn't leave you alone,” he reminds her. “I love you, too.”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for taking the time to read this! I hope you enjoyed it! 
> 
> I'm also on tumblr if you're interested. https://ellebeedarling.tumblr.com/
> 
> Much love,  
> Elle


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